


Guilt

by Inthelittledoctor



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Emotions, F/M, Fluff, Guilt, One Night Stand, Sequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-24
Updated: 2016-02-24
Packaged: 2018-05-22 22:06:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6095482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inthelittledoctor/pseuds/Inthelittledoctor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a one night stand with a stranger, Clara is left to confront the Doctor about why exactly she did what she did. {Sequel to Jealous}</p>
            </blockquote>





	Guilt

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel to 'Jealous'. I would highly recommend you read that before you read this, although you don't need to read it to follow the story.

Waking up next to a stranger (naked, mind you) wasn't exactly the best way to start the morning. She's feeling a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach as she goes to carefully sit up, cautious so as not to wake up the man next to her. Doug, she remembers, his name is Doug. Why would she sleep with a Doug? The throbbing headache that creeps up on her reminds her that (oh yeah) she was drunk, beyond drunk if she remembered correctly. God, did she really drink that much? Why didn't the Doctor stop her from doing this? And it's at this moment that it's coming back to her, him trying to stop her, grabbing her arm, words failing to leave his mouth even though they were on the tip of his tongue. She's burying her face in her hands and groaning quietly, everything in her feeling like it was wound up as tight as it could go. Wait to have a breakdown until you get to your flat, she's telling herself, even though she knows she won't make it that long. As she goes to stand up, she feels lips on her shoulder and she wants to cry. 

'Where're you going?' Asks a deep voice from behind her and she vaguely remember that voice from the night before, whispering profanities into her ear as he moved inside her. 

God, why did she sleep with him, let alone ditch the Doctor to go dance with him? Oh yeah, that's right, because he'd done the same to her on the last trip. One moment they'd been talking and laughing, and the next he'd been swooping off to go talk (flirt) with another woman. She was just trying to make him see how it felt, like everything inside of her was being torn apart, she hadn't meant for it to go this far. Feeling bile rise up her throat, she's standing up, earning a growl from the man behind her. 

'I asked you where you were going, love,' he's reminding, voice soft with a hidden anger to it. 

'Don't call me love,' she's warning, trying to sound firm, even though she was anxious as hell. God, if she didn't feel so tense right now she would slap him. 

'Alright, Clary. How about you come back to bed and we go for a round two?' He's saying, and if she wasn't sure that she hated him before, she was certain that she hated him now. Putting her undergarments on, she's sighing roughly, glaring at the man across the room and feeling her stomach lurch. He was staring at her, his eyes devouring every inch of her. Were all men like this, or did she just get unlucky with the few that she'd slept with?

Stepping into her dress and pulling it up, she's attempting to zip it, only to find her efforts to be in vain. The man's standing up and she swears if he comes a step closer, she will kill him. And then he's doing something she hasn't expected from him. He's actually being a gentleman. Stepping behind her, he's zipping up her dress and whispering and apology, making sure to keep some distance between them once he's done so she doesn't feel uncomfortable. And for the first time that morning, she doesn't feel violated, and she can actually see the small part of him that she was attracted to. It's also at this point that she's noticing that that part of him is painfully similar to the Doctor, and yeah, there is definitely a panic attack in her near future. Hastily making her way to the door, she's muttering a good bye before swinging it open and leaving the room, every part of her aching as she slams the door shut behind her. 

Apologising to the Doctor wasn't quite something she wanted to do, and if she was being honest, it wasn't quite something she needed to do either. Yet, there was that weight she was carrying at the moment that she couldn't quite seem to get rid of, and if she doesn't tell him, she may never be rid of it. She's turning to leave and go find him, only to find her search cut short when she sees him sitting next to the doorframe, head back against the wall and knees pulled up to his chest. Had he sat there all night? And more importantly, had he heard what was happening in the room next to him? If so, she indeed did owe him an apology. With an aching heart, she's kneeling down to shake his shoulder and wake him up, getting no reaction from him. Sighing, she's moving over to his side and sitting down, looking at him for a moment, wondering if it'd be okay if she put her head on his shoulder. He'd let her do it before, so she wasn't quite sure why she was contemplating it now (maybe because she's slept with another man.). Reluctantly, she's putting her head on his shoulder and closing her eyes, letting the events of the previous day play through her head. That is until she hears the door next to her open and opens her eyes to see Doug step out, looking just as dapper as the night before. 

Noticing her on the floor, he's looking over at her and raising an eyebrow, questioning,'Who's that?'

Well, she had already slept with him, so what harm could telling the truth do? Granted, her version of the truth was different from that of the Time Lord at her side. 'My date.' 

With a slight frown (and she hoped a guilty conscience) he's walking away, leaving her and the Doctor alone yet again. She's letting her eyes drift shut again and wrapping her arms around his, praying that he'd wake up soon and not be mad at her. She hated the feeling she was currently having, the one that felt like a weight, and him being angry would only make it worse. If I explain why I did it, I'm sure he'll understand, she's reassuring herself, only to not quite believe her words. Feeling him stir next to her, she's taking a deep breath out and holding his arm tighter, preparing herself for whatever came next. 

'Clara?' 

Looking up at him, she's seeing him looking down at her quite confused, and she's thinking that she may have some explaining to do. 'Hey,' she's replying shyly, giving him a small smile. 

Smiling sleepily back at her he's asking,'Where's Handsy?' 

Handsy? Oh, this was great. He was actually jealous. Breathing out a laugh, she's replying,'He left a few minutes ago.'

Nodding, as if showing his approval of this fact, he's linking his hands in his lap and looking up at the ceiling. Her arms are slipping from his and she's sighing, the weight becoming heavier and she's not sure how much longer she'll be able to deal with it without breaking down. Probably not much longer. She hates this so much. She never messes up this bad. She wants to be able to touch him, to have him whisk her away and tell her that everything was fine even though it wasn't. Looking over at him, she's opening her mouth to apologise, only for him to say something first. 

'I know you've probably already been told this, but you look beautiful.'

Oh. Okay. Well. That may be the most unexpected thing she's ever heard from him and she's not really sure how to function properly at the moment. That's when she feels something snap inside of her and a sob escapes her, her eyes filling with tears. God, she wants to leave so bad. She doesn't want to be like this in public. Letting her head fall back against the wall, she's trying her best not to think, simply just letting the tears that had been building up fall down her cheeks, not caring if he saw or not. It's so hard not to think when so much has happened. It's torture. She slept with someone she hardly even knew, while there was the man she loved sitting outside the door, willing to do anything to keep her safe and happy. Revenge, she supposed, was all this was. A bitter way for her to solve her problem of being mad at him. Although what exactly was solved? She was mad at herself now and nothing had really changed, only their roles. Him the victim and her the one inflicting the pain. 

There's a hand on her back and a deep voice trying to talk to her, question her, yet all she hears is words with no meaning. Slouching over, she's burying her face in her hands, sobs shaking her body. Her whole body feels like lead, sorrow laced through every thread of her being. More useless phrases coming from his direction. She's so tired of this. So tired of everything. Why do emotions exist if they only ever result in misery? More tears, more sobbing, his hand leaving her back, making her feel hollow. But then there's his arms wrapping around her and pulling her closer to him, stopping her sobbing, if only momentarily. She's looking up at him to see him staring at the wall ahead of him, his expression almost sad. She's encasing him in her arms and resting her head on his shoulder once again, feeling him stiffen for a moment before reluctantly placing his head on hers. She knows he doesn't like doing this, but at the moment, she knows they both need it so it's not like she's going to stop them from comforting each other. 

An apology is leaving her lips and he's saying nothing back to her, simply just continuing to stare at the wall. Well, that was certainly not going to work. Not with her at least. She needed him to at least acknowledge her apology, because she was really trying here and no effort coming from him was honestly aggravating. Letting her arms drop from him she's looking up at him with tears still rolling down her cheek, placing her thumb and forefinger on his chin, gently turning his head to look at her. She's telling him to say something, because really, anything would work for her at the moment. He's looking at her, eyes wide and filled with sadness, and it looks almost if he's bewildered by her presence. He's opening his mouth to say something, yet no words come out, so he closes his mouth and furrows his brow, looking as though he's fighting with himself over whether to say what he wanted to say or not. 

Then he's opening his mouth again and suggesting,'How about we go back to the TARDIS?'

When she said anything would work at the moment, she supposes she was lying, because what he just said would most certainly not work for her. 'What were you going to say before that?' 

'Nothing,' he's insisting, and of course she sees right through him. Did he really think that he could lie to her?

'No, you were going to say something. Tell me,' she's ordering, her expression determined. His arms leaving her, he's sighing and running a hand over his face, cautious not to touch the fingers on his chin. Eyes darting to the ground, he's wringing his hands nervously and she's wondering if she really should've even bothered him about it. It seemed important and at the moment, anything to distract her from the day before would be wonderful. 

'I think I'm in love with you,' he's grumbling.

Oh God. She felt like she was going to collapse. Or maybe throw up. Or both. Both sounded good. Her heart feels like it's going to jump out of her chest, while the weight in her chest feels like it's damn near about to crush her. Block out the guilt, Oswald, she's telling herself, trying to come up with a quick way to distract herself. Kissing. Kissing's always a good distraction. And right now she would quite like to kiss him. Although as she goes to lean in to kiss him, he's turning his head, her lips landing on his cheek, and she's frowning, feeling her heart sink. Yet his cheeks still manage to turn a rosy colour, and she's smiling sadly at that. 

'Doctor...' She's starting, not quite being able to find the right words to be able to continue. 

'You don't need to pity me,' he's saying, bowing his head, her two fingers still on his chin. 

Did he really think that she was pitying him? She loved him, did he not know that? She really tried to show it. Even the day before, trying to make him jealous because she had been jealous of the alien he had been (essentially) flirting with. Instead of just coming out and telling him how she felt, she's deciding to dig deeper, actually figure out why he thought she pitied him. So she's asking him, her tone gently, the hand on his chin moving up to his cheek. And his response is what she had been expecting, because she had slept with another man without a second thought, without once considering how it would effect him. To her credit, she had actually thought about how it would effect him. She supposes now would be as good a time as any to properly apologise to him. So she is, telling him she's sorry for sleeping with Doug (she has called him 'Handsy' to make him smile) and for attempting to get revenge for making her jealous on the last trip. She begins to apologise for being jealous in the first place, but his laugh is interrupting her and his hand is reaching for hers, entwining their fingers and grinning at her. 

She wants to ask him what exactly just happened, but she isn't exactly able to form coherent words when she sees the way he's looking at her. Had he always looked at her like this? She doesn't remember him ever looking at her like this when she was looking. Leaning forward, he's nudging her nose with his, silently asking her to take the next step, and she's more than happy to oblige. Their lips are touching and she suddenly feels weightless, the weight from earlier disappearing almost completely. His hands are on the back of her neck, pulling her closer to him and drinking her in. His lips are gentle against hers and surprise surprise, he's a good kisser (of course he was a good kisser, he had over two thousand years of experience.). Better than a good kisser, really, she dared to say he was a brilliant kisser. Not like she would ever tell him, lest she make his already huge ego even bigger. He's nibbling on her bottom lip and she's laughing gently, pulling away from the kiss and smiling at him. 

He's laughing too and God, he's so beautiful like this, flustered and happy, almost as if he's glowing. Squeezing her eyes shut, she's laughing harder, her laughter shaking her frame as she bows her head. Why she's laughing, she doesn't entirely know, but it feels so good to be so close to him, with him touching her, that she doesn't really want to stop. If they could just sit in this hallway forever and stay in this moment. Although, that's not how time works, and eventually this has to end. But not right now. Not if she can help it. So she's sitting there laughing, savouring the moment for as long as she can before it has to end.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Not as proud of this one as I am of 'Jealous', but I plan on improving and doing more of these. Help a boy out; give me some emotions to write about in the comments! Kudos if you enjoyed and comments are always appreciated.


End file.
